love love
by gravitybarnes
Summary: (AU) Or, the one where Spencer puts the Pro in Professional and Hanna puts the P in 'passable'.


"You're," Hanna pants, stumbling back—her neon pink tennis racket lifting higher in the air. Blue eyes fixing on the prize. The ball drops, Hanna's racket connects with it easily "_really_, good at this." She finish-breathes.

Well, so's Hanna (on account of pure dumb luck, apparently) but since Spencer's not getting paid to kiss ass or give sass, she says "That's, kind of the point isn't it?"

"What?" Hanna asks distractedly, eyes zeroing in on the ball whilst Spencer hits it over the net.

"If I was bad, that would just make you.. worse."

"Right, right, gotcha..." Hanna's racket connects with the ball half a second before it flies out of bounds.

Spencer's racket rushes to catch it "To be completely honest with you-" Hanna's racket connects with the ball half of a _half of a _second before it races out of bounds "-I don't think you even, need my help." Hanna laughs a self-deprecating laugh, in response. A cleft forms between Spencer's eyebrows. "Seriously. Your form is atrocious - and your hits need more power in them, but other than that - you're passable." Hanna snorts. Ironically, hits the ball with more power this time. "You said you didn't, want to make a fool of yourself, in front of your husband's-" Hanna's footing momentarily falters. "-new clients - right?"

Her open expression fades fast. "Yeah."

"Well I promise you-" Spencer smacks the ball out of the sky, Hanna hits it back to her smoothly "-you definitely won't."

"That's really nice of you to say but," Hanna lifts her gray shirt quickly, transferring sweat from her reddened face to it— tanned skin glistening in the sunlight —then drops it. Fields the ball from a low angle over the net "I know me, better than you know me, and I know I will definitely, _definitely_, make a fool of myself without your help so. Less asskissing and more lessony.. ing, from now on, okay?"

"O-kay." Spencer replies, very belatedly, expression smoothed blank.

Hanna smiles warmly then and Spencer slams the ball so hard over the net, Hanna practically trips over herself in her attempt to hit it back.

* * *

"How is saying: you have bad form - asskissing?" Spencer demands into her cellphone. Her left leg straddling the low bench in the Employees-Only locker room, whilst she ties the laces on her right sneaker. Sweat drips down her nose. She drops her right leg to the floor, moves onto her left leg "And what the hell does _lessony-ing_ even mean anyway? Did she _have_ a formal education or did JoeRich just kidnap her, fresh out of elementary school?"

"..Spence,"

"Like - is she for real?"

"Spence-"

"I don't-" Spencer wipes the sweat off her nose hurriedly once she's finished tying, shoulders loosening "-I don't think I'm cut out for this anymore, Aria. Quality over quantity right?"

"Are you gonna talk to yourself the whole time or.. can I cut in now?"

Spencer yanks her hair out of its ponytail, massaging the feeling back into her skull. Breathes deep.

"Good. Ok-D'you want my honest opinion?"

"No."

"I think, _maybe_ - you're.. projecting all your anger about 'The Jenna Thing' onto this innocent-"

"I said No."

"-bystander. Blowing the whole situation out of proportion. Last month you would've laughed about it - this month you wanna quit? Spence... Cmon, You _love_ your job. You can't give up on _everything_ you love just because Jenna-"

"Aria?"

Aria sighs heavily. "Yes?"

"Do me a favor, and lookup the definition of No-"

"Spence-"

"And once you're done with that, slap yourself in the face."

"Sp-"

Spencer hangs up. Stands. Turns around to grab her bag out of her locker and almost has a heart attack. She blinks, open-mouthed, heart lodged firmly in her stomach. Hanna blinks back. There's dead silence. And then

"This locker room is for _Employees Only_." Spencer says, pulse jumping, voice an inch away— barely that —from panic. "The sign's right-"

"I know, I know, I just... wanted to say th... and s.. for - but you're obv... Um... I'll just... I'll..." Hanna bolts out of the locker room.

* * *

The next several lessons between them are so awkward— Spencer profusely apologizes, Hanna feigns acceptance.. and repeat —Spencer considers shutting the whole thing down, but, alas, she's no quitter (plus she's basically getting paid to teach a fish how to swim) and she's dealt with way.. _way_ worse, so, as they say, the show goes on.

* * *

Nearly a month later, the show, sort of, _implodes_.

* * *

Spencer blames the heat. Combined, of course, with 'The Jenna Thing'. But—mostly the heat.

'Lessony-ing' goes smoothly. Little to no conversation, the sound of the tennis ball flying through the air, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.  
Then 'Lessony-ing' ends, Spencer— albeit awkwardly —waves goodbye to Hanna then goes to the Employees-Only locker room.

She's tugging out of her work shirt, wiping sweat on her forehead off with the back of her hand when the smell of rose perfume abruptly permeates the air.

Hanna's standing in the exact same spot she stood in last time. Except this time her face isn't cherry red with embarrassment. This time, she's not bolting out of the room like her hair's on fire. This time, she's just... staring. Staying put.

"I forgive you already, so you can stop apologizing."

Spencer gets as far as "W-" out of her mouth and then Hanna's on her. Like—squeezing her hands over her breasts, over her ass, shoving her tongue down her throat  
_on_ her.

But there's the mind numbing heat, 'The Jenna Thing'. And the subtle reminder of her cold wedding band, sliding against her skin is like: relief, heaven—spelling out in big bold letters that she isn't in it for the long term. That this is, just, what it is. A simple— albeit pleasurable —exchange between two consenting adults. No strings attached.

It's quick and by the time a co-worker comes in, Hanna's long gone and Spencer's halfway out the door.  
Yeah, Spencer definitely blames the heat.

* * *

She blames the heat the second and third time it happens. Blames the cold the fourth fifth and sixth time it happens. Blames herself the seventh eighth and ninth time it happens.  
For all the rest, she simply blames, Hanna.

Hanna and her smooth skin.  
Hanna and her dimpled smile.  
Hanna and her nauseating rose perfume.  
Hanna and her.. _Hanna_-ness.

Then, very eventually, Hanna and her stupid. no good. ring less finger.

**_ FIN_**


End file.
